


we saw the stars when they hid from the world

by smoakoverwatch



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Speculation, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-18 03:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14204022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoakoverwatch/pseuds/smoakoverwatch
Summary: A collection of shorter one shots.chapter 4: post 6x18 missing moment.





	1. one foot in sea, one on shore (6x18 spec)

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on Tumblr 22/3/2018. Inspired by the 6x18 synopsis. Vague on the actual conflict part, for reasons. Enjoy!

Oliver’s sudden outburst hangs in the air. It dissolves slowly, settling over the room and the other two attendants, both of whom look at him with different shocked expressions.

William looks wide eyed and has to hide a flinch. Felicity is the same, but Oliver can see as the expression on her face quickly hardens.

“Will, can you go to your room please?” she asks, her voice is steady, rigid like the line in her jaw, the only emotion is the slight film over her eyes that gives her away.

The younger boy doesn’t move immediately. He hesitates in his spot, eyes flickering from Oliver’s clenched fist and Felicity warily.

“Go,” she says, softer this time, “I’ll be fine.”

The implications of this interaction set in, and Oliver feels as though he’s been doused in ice water.

William isn’t just scared of them arguing anymore. He’s worried for Felicity’s  _safety_  if left alone with Oliver.

He really didn’t think it was possible to hate himself more right now.

His stomach turns in disgust, at how in one moment of weakness, in a bad week of a bad month, he’s lost all the respect he’d earned from his son.

Finally, William moves from where he was rooted on the carpet. His steps to his room are hesitant, neck straight as though fighting the urge to look over his shoulder as he walks. When he pulls his bedroom door open, he glances back nervously at the scene one last time.

Oliver forces his fist open, flexing his fingers and trying to release some of the tension.

He clears his throat. Suddenly Felicity’s hard gaze is incredibly hard to meet.

“I think I’m going to sleep in the bunker tonight.”

“The bunker?” Felicity says with forced lightness, “You know, most husbands just go as far as the couch when they screw up.”

“Don’t,” Oliver says through clenched teeth, “You know why I can’t be in here right now.”

“No, Oliver, I don’t think I do,” Felicity says.

“The last thing William needs is me, right now, when I’m… I’ll… I’ll just go.”

“I think the last thing he needs right now is his father leaving and spending the entire night wondering if he’ll ever come back,” her voice catches by the end of her sentence, and Oliver finds himself looking up again, “He needs to know if everything will be okay.”

There are more tears stinging at her eyes now, and her arms are wrapped around her midsection as though physically holding herself together.

He knows this is more than just William now.

“Of course, I don’t think you should go to the bunker either, but that’s for my own reasons,” she continues, “I don’t think you’ll be getting any sleep there tonight.”

She raises her eyebrows challengingly, “Am I wrong?”

Oliver doesn’t answer.

She laughs bitterly.

“Yeah. I didn’t think so. I really don’t trust you to not suit up and go out there alone, I think you’ll be reckless.”

Oliver doesn’t answer that. He definitely was planning on suiting up tonight. He hates that she could see right through him.

“I just don’t think I should be around any of you right now.”

“Really, Oliver?” her voice wavers, rising an octave, and she sounds so,  _so_ tired, “I thought we had finished this song and dance years ago. I thought we were past the point where you pushed me away when things get hard. What, next are you going to tell me this whole thing was a mistake?”

Oliver stays silent again. He doesn’t trust he’ll say the right thing. Of course, he would never, ever want to throw away the life he’s built in the past six months.

But everything feels like it’s spinning wildly out of control, like he can’t reach the brakes and he can only watch as he causes more destruction to the people he loves, to the city he vowed to protect.

He twists his body towards the exit.

“Oliver, if you walk out the door,” Felicity pauses halfway through. A twisted smile grows on her face, contrasting the twin set of tears on either cheek, “Huh, I always hoped we wouldn’t get to that line.”

His hand grips the doorknob. He is caught – somewhere between wanting to turn and beg for her forgiveness or flinging the door open and running as far as his legs would allow.

He can hear as she inhales sharply, watching him hesitate. Maybe her hope soars for a moment. Maybe she thinks they’ll be able to talk this through, and salvage whatever can be salvaged. Maybe she thinks he won’t be the disappointment he somehow always ends up being.

He twists the knob.

As the door closes behind him, he can hear as Felicity finally lets a deep sob out.

* * *

He’s ashamed to admit it, but the only reason he comes home the next morning is to retrieve a clean suit. As he unlocks the front door, he hopes that Felicity is out, and William is at school. It’s a fleeing, cowardly thought, but one that he can’t help but thinking.

The sight that greets him inside is far worse.

There is broken glass on the floor right as he enters. The key bowl is gone, crunching under his feet. The coffee table in their living room is turned over. Red stains the hardwood floors. William’s door is open, his bed still unmade as though someone wretched him from the covers. Felicity’s one lone shoe is knocked on its side near the kitchen.

Oliver walks around the apartment feeling as though he is taking everything in slow motion, turning every corner to find a new horror.

His worst fear is actualized. In pushing them away, in getting so caught up in what  _could_ happen and how much he’d already failed, he’s now lost his wife and boy.

As he turns around the apartment, he passes by the window, and a familiar figure catches his eye in the street.

Diaz gives him a little smile and juts his chin out. Almost as if to say,  _your move, Queen._


	2. call out my name (i want you to stay)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on some speculation that the conflict as described in the 6x18 synopsis culminates in Oliver turning himself in by 6x19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... sorta kinda travels into smut territory without strictly being smut. I've never done that before. It was mostly an accident, because it started with an idea for a certain moment I'd like to see and then spiraled. Ah. 
> 
> If it's super cringey, please don't tell me. 
> 
> Enjoy.

 When it’s all said and done, when Oliver’s apologized and put William to bed, after they enjoy their first dinner as a family in days, Felicity waits alone.

She can hear him shuffling around outside, hesitating and fumbling.

It’s far later than she can handle, given the emotionally draining week they’ve had, she should be asleep, but she sits on the edge of their bed, fingers gripping the side of the mattress as she waits.

Her heart beats loudly in her ear, and she tries to calm the feeling by taking slow breaths through her nose. This has been hard enough on him, and she doesn’t want him to come in here and sense her anxiety right now.

Because everything he did tonight –  his apology, mac and cheese with William while they watch basketball, the store-bought cheesecake Felicity loved – felt less like making up and more like something much worse.

A goodbye.

He finally enters the room, turning ever so slowly to close the door without a sound. When he looks at her with those tired, regretful eyes, all her plans for maintaining a calm front fly out the window.

The tears come hot, stinging at her eyes. She clenches her jaw and grips the bed tighter, hoping to somehow will them away by force.

She hopes he won’t notice, but of course, he does. He could never miss how she feels.

It’s for that reason that he just rubs his eyes, and sighs, “Felicity…”

“You’re going to turn yourself in,” she says. Her voice is small, less confident than she’d like to sound, but the well for being strong has gone dry, and she suspects she might need it in coming days.

His hand drops from his forehead, and he has the decency to look ashamed.

“I have to,” he says. He walks slowly from where he hovered by the door to face her. She hangs onto the bed like a lifeline as she watches his movements.

He surprises her when he doesn’t immediately join her next to the bed. Instead, he crouches on the ground in front of her, so that he is looking up. He takes her hand gently, and she lets him, because, hey, their days of contact are definitely numbered.

“I don’t think you have to,” the bitterness spills into her voice, “We – we’ve always found another way. It’s what we do.”

Oliver can only shake his head, “Not this time. We’ve tried everything. If I turn myself in, I can save anyone else, I can work a plea deal, I can –”

He stops himself, as though it sounds weak even in his own ears. He looks to his feet quickly, before facing her again. This time, his eyes shine a bit more.

“I never wanted this,” he says, his voice cracking, “You have to know, I don’t want to leave you, or William, you two are my world.”

She has to look down, her vision blurring further as the tears begin to spill over her cheeks.

“Did you tell –”

“No,” Oliver shakes his head, “I didn’t – he was finally happy today, I didn’t want to take that away from him.”

Felicity nods slowly.

“Felicity,” he cups her cheek with one hand, fingers brushing against the back of her neck. She holds onto his wrist tightly, as though doing so will prevent the metal cuffs from circling him in a few short hours, “When I’m gone, I want you to forget everything we’ve done.”

Her hand drops to her lap quickly, “What?”

“It’s too dangerous,” he says, and when she starts to protest he speaks faster, “You’ve seen what they’ve done to me. I don’t want you to go through that, I don’t want Diggle to go through it. I know it’ll be the hardest thing, but please.”

“What am I supposed to do?” she asks, and she hates how helpless she sounds.

“Work on your company,” he tries to smile, but it’s a weak effort, “I know how much it means to you, just focus on that. And…”

He furrows his eyebrows, “Just try to be happy, okay?”

She laughs at that, it comes out a short, harsh sound. Because, really, how can he ask that?

The laugh aches at her sides, and soon she’s leaning over the bed, her breathes coming out in quick sobs.

Oliver takes her face in both hands, pulling her closer until their foreheads press together.

“I’m sorry,” she gasps, “I don’t want to make this har—harder for you.”

“It’s okay,” Oliver says soothingly. His thumb starts to rub back and forth against her temples.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers anyway, the tears flowing freely, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

She babbles it again and again, unsure of what she’s apologizing for anymore.

_I’m sorry I didn’t try hard enough. I’m sorry you were put in this position at all. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it. I’m sorry you have to make this choice. I’m sorry you have to leave me._

“Be strong,” he says quietly, “And take care of our boy, alright?”

She nods, forehead rubbing against his, but her eyes are screwed shut. She’s got the works going right now, crying, snot, probably a bright red nose, and she feels the furthest thing from strong.

“I love you,” she says, a small, broken whisper.  

She’s pulling him up then, tired of leaning down to look at him and tired of being apart any longer.

His lips find hers instantly, as if reading her thoughts and sensing her urgency.

It’s not the most romantic way to come together – their teeth bump and there’s an awkward scramble as he finds a spot next to her on the bed. She grips at his shirt when he pulls away, she’s climbing in his lap and pushing him down on the bed.

She pulls his shirt off quickly, her shaking hands trace every line and marking on his bare chest in a way she hasn’t done in so long. Fingers dance along the spot where Ras ran his sword through, where his mother shot him, where Adrian Chase burned his bratva tattoo. Her hair spills over her face as she looks down, her neck aches, and soon every scar is matched with a teardrop before he pulls himself up.

He crushes his body into hers, pulling her impossibly close and tugging at the tank-top she wears.

There’s something frantic in their actions, but they slow it down when all their clothes are shed, and it’s just warm skin pressing against one another.

He is under her, head pressed against their backboard and watching her with his mouth parted open as she moves above him. Her fingers dig into his shoulders when he stops, taking a moment to rearrange them so that he is blanketing her.

It’s reminiscent of their first night together in Nanda Parbat, when he buries his face in her neck as though to commit the feeling of her to memory, and she grips his back as if doing so will keep him there, with her, away from any danger.

She’s pretty sure she cries some more when he gives one final thrust, and his name comes out as a tired sigh. She curls an arm around his neck to bring him in closer, if at all possible. She can feel his heartbeat pressed against her own, and she focuses on that feeling, blocking out their uncertain future, whether this is their last time together…

He rearranges them so that he lies flat on his back and pulls her in close under his arm. She traces her hand up and down his chest, down his arm, watching the goosebumps rise.

“I know I can’t ask you to not to turn yourself in,” she says against his skin.

“I appreciate that,” his voice is so low she can feel it more from his chest than hear it.

“Will you just stay for the night?”

There’s no more tears as she asks. She’s pretty sure that the ducts in her eyes have gone dry. A different feeling consumes her altogether – something much more calm, as though the storm has settled when it's yet to even begin. 

He responds by throwing an arm over her hip, tangling their bodies together even more, and breathing the feeling of her in.

He does stay all night. In the morning, he walks out the door with a single kiss on her forehead and a regretful look towards William’s bedroom door.

She doesn’t tell him – but she decides that he is wrong. They didn’t fight Slade Wilson, and Ras al Ghul, and Adrian Chase, and dozens of other people just to give up now.

She’s going to fight for him.


	3. my fight song (lot: 2x16)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inspired by legends of tomorrow episode 2x16, but with a little bit of my own twist on it
> 
> * warnings for major character deaths that were already in or implied in the legends ep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this sometime in December 2017, when I was going through some writers block. I uploaded it on tumblr but accidentally deleted it I think? Anyway I wanted to just add it to the collection 'cause why not.

They’ve fought bad guys before. They’ve had moments where it seems like it may be impossible to win but they always find a way.

But then Damien Darhk comes back.

It makes no sense, he should be dead. But he’s back, and somehow stronger than before, with an army that seems impenetrable.

This time, the lives he takes rise exponentially.

It’s all hands on deck for this one, which means their friends in Central City were called for backup.

Barry and his family were the first to go.

It sent them all into shock, and for the first time Felicity had to consider their team of superfriends may not be successful this time.

Cisco followed in Barry’s footsteps not long after.

When Damien Darhk took the Mayor’s office and gained control of Star City, Oliver insisted that there was still a way to fight this and win.

After Rene and Dinah’ funeral, they started to make contingency plans and arranged safehouses.

The day they buried John Diggle, Felicity knew for certain that this was not a battle they could win, only prolong.

The night of his funeral prompted Oliver and Felicity to have an important conversation about their now uncertain future.

They’re sitting in their room. It’s sometime past 3 in the morning, but neither of them even bothered to try and sleep. They lie on the bed, facing each other and hands intertwined tightly.

“If anything happens to me, Felicity,” Oliver finally says, his voice is gravelly and she can see in the faint light that his eyes are tired, “You pack a bag, you take William and you run. Go to the other side of the planet if you have to, I don’t care.”

“Oliver,” Felicity starts to prop herself up on her elbow, but he shakes his head.

“I mean it, Felicity,” he insists. “None of it. Don’t look back. Don’t open that box in our closet that I know Cisco sent you months ago. Leave this place behind.”

She doesn’t agree. She doesn’t even want to entertain the idea of ever losing Oliver, much less what she would do without him, but she nods anyway. And rests her head back against the pillow. Wordlessly, he reaches out and pulls her in close to his side, tracing his hands up and down her arms as if to try and commit the feel of her to memory.

Two weeks after that conversation, Felicity finds herself as a widow.

It happens all too fast. It’s just him on the field, just her on the comms, and as they’ve gotten older it’s just not enough. Darhk’s army is too powerful for them now. The last thing she hears is a small gasp – “I’m so sorry, Felicity,” before a sickening sound she doesn’t want to identify.

She doesn’t need to look at the security cameras she hacked to know her husband is gone.

The funeral comes a few days after that.

After burying all her friends for months, Felicity thought she would be numb to the pain by now. And to an extent, maybe she is. She doesn’t cry as her husband’s body is lowered into the ground. She holds her stepson, who at sixteen has long surpassed her in the height department but still leans his lead on her shoulder.

William.

If she can’t feel anything for herself right now, she feels for him. The boy who lost is mother and now his father, has no more relatives he can call his own blood. He’s just a boy, but she can see as he accepts condolences that he’s stepping into a different role, forcing himself to grow up all too soon, all because of the cards life has dealt him.

In that moment, Felicity feels.

It’s not the grief she should probably be feeling right now.

It’s anger.

Anger at the unfairness of circumstance for William, a kid who doesn’t deserve to lose everyone.

Frustration at how it’s been _years_ of watching her friends die, and being absolutely hopeless to stop it.

For the first time all day, Felicity realizes what she’s been feeling.

She’s furious, and she wants to find Damien Darhk to take him apart limb by limb herself.

She’s done losing to him.

The car ride home is quiet. Felicity drives back on muscle memory alone, because her thoughts are far too preoccupied with something else.

William goes into his room without another word. He doesn’t stick around for dinner, and she doesn’t ask. She knows meals will just seem empty now that they aren’t made at Oliver’s hand. And though their fridge is sufficiently stocked with casseroles from kind neighbors and concerned coworkers, she doesn’t feel like eating much either.

Instead, she walks into their – _her_ – room and pulls the door open to thei – _her_ – walk in closet.

The scent of his cologne, sandalwood and something, hits her a little harder than she expects, and for the first time all day she feels her throat get tighter, but she pushes the feeling away.

She finds a box, hidden in her collection of winter jackets and pulls it out. She hasn’t touched it in months, but it’s been on her mind for a while now. she pulls the lid apart and pulls the coat out.

Black leather, with purple lining. A space on the sleeve where she can add a small bit of hardware she’s been quietly designing for weeks. The matching mask sat in her work desk for weeks – the only place Oliver could never find it – and she moved it over yesterday. It sits in her bag.

For a long time, Felicity just stares at the suit, holding it up in front of her until her arms start to ache. Oliver’s words from the night of Diggle’s funeral float through her mind. It’s not the outcome he would have wanted for her, or one that she would have wanted for herself, if she’s being honest, but it’s necessary.

She’s so lost in contemplation, apparently, that she doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching.

When William’s shadow falls over her, she drops the outfit back into its box.

When she looks up, her stepson looks resigned.

“You’re going to go out there,” he says. It’s not a question, like he already knows he can’t stop her.

For the first time all day, her eyes fill with tears. “I have to.”

“You don’t.” he insists. He points to the duffle bag sitting on the other side of the closet, one that Felicity and Oliver had made just last week. “We could find another way.”

She’s shaking her head before he finishes speaking, rising to her feet as she does. “I need to stop him,” her voice shakes. “I need to – to save this city.”

“You don’t have to,” the boy insists. His fist clenches at his sides. “You don’t owe this city anymore.”

“He took everything from me,” the first tear finds its way down Felicity’s cheek. “I have to stop him.”

“He’ll take your life too.”

“I need to _try_ ,” she insists, “How could I live with myself, knowing I let all my friends… all of my family die fighting just so I could run away somewhere?”

“And what about me?” William asks quietly, and Felicity feels her heart crack just a bit.

The only reason she isn’t already out there, tearing through the city until she finds Darhk is the boy standing in front of her, with red eyes and still in the funeral suit that was just a little too short on the sleeves for his gangly figure.

She can’t leave William alone, but she can’t stay here either.

When she doesn’t answer, William crosses his arms and looks down, “You know, Dad would want –”

“I know what he would want,” Felicity stops him, and the words come out louder than she would have wanted. “But he’s gone. He left me – he left _us_ here because he tried to do what we did for the last ten years, which was fight against evil. And I lost him – I lost him, when I told him my biggest fear was  –”

She has to throw a hand over her mouth when a sob escapes, and all the grief she should have felt for Oliver’s death finally comes to surface. Loud sobs shake through her body and she has to lean over when it makes her head spin. Her wedding ring presses into her mouth as she tries to gain some control of her emotions.

William stares at her, eyes wide, as if he doesn’t know how to handle her sudden outburst. She doesn’t blame him, she doesn’t know how to handle herself either right now.

When her breathing starts to even itself out again, he finally speaks.

“You have to go out there, don’t you?” he says.

“I’m so sorry,” Felicity says. Her voice feels heavy. “If I don’t – look, John sent off Lyla and the kids a few months ago, before all of this started. The address is in my nightstand. If I don’t come back, go there. Please.”

“You’ll come back.” William insists. “Promise me?”

Fuck.

She can’t.

“I promise.” The words feel like lead on her tongue.

When she pulls the leather over her shoulders, she feels like she’s dressing for her own funeral.

But she has to try.

* * *

 

All in all, she thinks she did pretty well for her first attempt at masked vigilantism. Shame that her first (and, reading her current circumstances, only) go at it didn’t allow for much margin for error.

She lasted all night, and really only one bad fall down a flight of stairs took her down before two women grabbed her by the black wig and forced her into the Mayor’s office that once belonged to Oliver.

It’s then that she finally finds herself staring down Damien Darhk, her first look at him since all of this started. She can see he still has a penchant for monologuing in that easy going, casual voice of his. Her eyes travel over to a shelf by his desk, where a familiar set of masks sit side by side.

There is so much she wants to say to this man, who took her friends, her family, the love of her life away from her. When he finally does come to a stop in front of her, all she can spit out is an icy “fuck you” that makes the woman behind her dig her knee into her back.

Worth it.

“My pest problem. Though, that term may be giving you vigilantes a little too much credit. Even a cockroach knows when to pack up and head out of dodge,” Darhk comments lightly.

“Star City is my home,” Felicity says, the grip on her is tightening and she’s not so naïve to know these are likely her last words, “And I will never stop fighting.”

Darhk only gives a bored smile “You will,” he looks over her head, “Kill her.”

Felicity doesn’t want to close her eyes, doesn’t want to give Darhk the satisfaction of knowing how much she fears this moment.

She sends a silent apology up to William, for failing him and leaving him alone once more.

The blonde woman’s hand comes down on her neck, and Felicity knows this is it.

The second last thing she can think of is that at least she died in a way that makes her feel proud.

And the last thing is that wherever she goes, she hopes she’ll see Oliver again soon.


	4. giving up the gun (post 6x18)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A missing moment between Oliver and Felicity, set after Oliver talks to William at the end of 6x18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purely self indulgent, stemming from my need to see Felicity’s perspective we’ll never get and we all know why, then it became me trying to make sense of Oliver’s actions.
> 
> Side note: I loved this ep wow. I haven’t felt like this since 6x04.

There’s a lot going around in Felicity’s mind when Oliver finally finds his way to bed that night.

So much happened over the course of an hour she isn’t sure where to even begin processing.

Her husband is being impeached. Her husband essentially kicked her off what is left of Team Arrow. Her husband thought she would leave him. Her husband could have very well died tonight if she was just a moment too late.

Her husband is currently starting to look at her weirdly.

She pushes the thoughts away to a far, far corner of her mind and forces a smile on her face.

“How’d the talk with William go?” she asks.

Oliver nods, a tired smile growing on his face, “Good,” he says, falling onto their bed, “I think he understood.”

Felicity nods, “I’m glad.”

He doesn’t say anything in response. An awkward silence falls over them.

Her hand falls to the middle of the bed, and that’s when she realizes how truly far apart they’re sitting.

Oliver is still by the edge of the bed, half sitting up as though ready to jump off. She’s curled on one end, even as she reaches out she can’t touch him.

“Felicity,” he says quietly, “What’s on your mind?”

She shakes her head almost reflexively. No way is she going to get into this tonight. It could lead to a fight, and that’s definitely not something she thinks he can handle.

“It’s nothing,” she says.

“Felicity,” he sighs, “This isn’t going to…”

He stops, furrowing his eyebrows.

“This isn’t going to work if we don’t talk about what’s on our minds,” he says. His eyes are downcast, and his voice sounds unlike his own, as though he’s reminding himself more than her.

“You’re right,” she concedes, “I just don’t want to put more on your plate. It’s been kind of a crazy day for you.”

Oliver scoffs, as if to say  _ you can say that again _ .

“Even so,” he says, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide how you feel. Not from me.”

She thinks it over carefully, trying to decide where to  _ begin _ .

“There was a moment in the precinct, where I was worried you wouldn’t listen to me and you would get yourself killed.”

As soon as the words are out, she wishes she could catch them in the air and shove them back in her mouth. Oliver’s eyes are still not meeting hers, but she can see his reaction from the way he’s tensed.

“I’m sorry, I –”

“I was never going to do it,” he says, “Not from the minute I saw you. It wasn’t an option.”

“You kept saying I wasn’t real,” her voice starts to crack, “I didn’t know if I was going to be able to get through to you in time.”

He’s shaking her head, “I knew that even if there was a  _ chance _ you were real, I couldn’t take the risk and put you in harms way.”

“That’s the problem, Oliver!” she says, her voice rising, but she has to reign it in, mindful of the boy across the hall, “It shouldn’t have to be like that. You shouldn’t have been there in the first place, you would have died. Then where would William be, where would I –”

She stops herself, because her voice rises in pitch and the tears she’s fought off for the past two hours are threatening to show themselves.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m sorry I made you doubt. I don’t want to leave you guys.”

She shrugs, sniffling a little, “Now you want to do this alone,” she says, “No backup, no  _ me. _ ”

“You’re upset that I’ve taken you off the team,” it’s not framed as a question. He knows damn well how much she hates this.

“I’m not crazy about the idea, no,” she pauses, trying to carefully choose her words, “I don’t… fully understand why you think being alone will help you. I don’t know if that’s going to keep you safe. But I will always support you, you know that, so if this is what you need right now, I’m in your corner.”

He gives her a small smile.

“I appreciate that,” he says, “I know it isn’t easy for you.”

He leans back on the headboard, “Do you remember Ivy Town?”

She mirrors his actions and turns to him, legs curling underneath her, “So fondly.”

“I know you missed the team while we were gone, and I know I had been dragging my feet about joining the mission again, so now it seems unfair that I’m asking you to step back.”

Felicity doesn’t respond, watching as he tries to find the right words.

“I fell in love with you during this mission, I saw how much you thrive in it. But, Felicity, I can’t let it take anything away from you like it has for me.”

“That shouldn’t be a unilateral decision, Oliver,” she sighs, “I should get to decide when it’s too much. But I think you being alone right now is so dangerous. You said yourself, you’re stretched too thin, how will this help?”

“Right now, the mission is the only thing I can control,” he says.

She relents. This isn’t an argument she’s going to win. Not tonight, at least.

“So, when you inevitably need tech support, are you gonna pull another ‘my coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood’ on me?” she says with a half smile.

He laughs, and the tension in the air starts to dissolve.

“Maybe I’ll bring some vertigo in a syringe and call it a sports bottle, just for old times sake,” he says with a smirk.

“Looking forward to it,” she says dryly.

He leans over to give her a kiss, and when he pulls back, something in his eyes shine.

“Thank you for understanding,” he says.

She can only nod. She may not understand his methods right now, but this is the man she has continued to stand by.

So when he starts to feel the control slipping again, she’ll be there. ‘I told you so’ not included.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow  
> twitter - smoakoverwatch


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